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The Social Network: the kink meme!

It's Complicated: But sexy!

Mark Zuckerberg
The Sarcastic Kitty oresteia wrote in tsn_kinkmeme
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[PART NINE] & Some News
Okay, I'm a little new at this so sorry if I mess this up first go. Because it's been 5 months since the last round even though we haven't been busy. I figured I might as well earn my keep and try to get this place alive again...




IMPORTANT: please DO NOT post prompts about any non-public people as part of a prompt. for example: randi zuckerberg is fine as she is a public figure both on the internet and on facebook itself. priscilla chan is NOT as she is not a public figure.

if you're in doubt, please message the mod or leave a comment in the discussion post.

♥ post requests and responses in the comments to this post.
♥ be respectful.
♥ both a pairing/character AND a prompt/kink must be posted.
♥ one pairing/prompt per comment please.
♥ you are encouraged to try and write a prompt for every request you make.
♥ we are slash, femslash, het, three-and-moresomes etc. friendly. (we are even incest friendly what with some of our characters being twins and all...)
♥ no pairing bashing, OK? no need to wank over ships.
♥ long and short fics welcome. multiple responses encouraged!
♥ please try to refrain from saying 'seconded!' as much as possible.
♥ on RPF: Please disclaim that it is RPF, a work of fiction and in no way related to the actual actors/persons/etc. (i wouldn't even try and discourage RPF from this meme ;))


♥ alphabetize pairings/threesomes/moresomes. (e.g. Eduardo/Mark/Sean etc.)
♥ put [RPF] before RPF prompts. (e.g. [RPF] Andrew/Jesse)
♥ for crossover prompts: "[Crossover], The Social Network Character(s)/Other Character(s), [Fandom]" (e.g. [Crossover], Eduardo/Columbus, [Zombieland])
♥ no "!" in pairings, only in descriptions. (e.g. Eduardo/Mark, FacebookCreator!Eduardo, CFO!Mark)
♥ anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other." (e.g. Sean/Other)
♥ Please do not repost prompts from earlier rounds
♥ put [GEN] before GEN prompts.


♥ please don't embed. link to images/videos.
♥ no locked material. this includes communities, even if membership is open.
♥ fills can be posted anonymously or not.
♥ fills can be anything: fic, art, vid, fanmix, podfic, etc.
♥ all prompts are open to fills at all times, even if they have been filled in the past or are being currently filled by someone else. multiple fills are positively encouraged; if something appeals to you then do not be put off creating a new fill by the existence of a prior one.
NEW: ♥ PLEASE comment with the first of your fill to the PROMPT and then all future updates as a comment to the FIRST PART of the fill. this makes it easier for both the WIP spreadhseet and for archiving stuff on delicious. it also helps people who are trying to catch up on updates and don't have to look through every fill on the prompt (should it have more than one). thank you.

Hi, right now everyone is working on some changes so hold on new things are coming. In an effort to kick this place back into action, we're doing round 9. In a few days, we'll be setting up a fills post that hopefully will work directly for archiving and an overflow post. Also we'll be doing a friending meme at tsn_km_gather so be looking out for that. I know some of the other mods have plans of their own which will be coming soon.

If you have any questions or ideas that I can help you with, feel free to PM me. I'll be around.



have fun!

THERE WILL BE UNMARKED SPOILERS. enter at your own risk! :D


i know you guys are enjoying this meme and i appreciate that but please can you put the SUBJECT HEADER on your prompt. you would REALLY be helping me out if you could do that. it just saves time for me when i'm trying to tag everything in delicious.



AND PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT repost prompts from parts three, four, five, six, seven, or eight. the delicious is around for people to find prompts they may not have already seen. We know there's been some issues but we're working on it with pinboard. No duplicates from this round either. THANK YOU.

Eduardo/Mark High School AU Warning for Underage?

Mark is the unpopular geek in school that always gets bullied and picked on. Eduardo and his friends are the popular kids responsible for making Marks life miserable. The natural balance of the social hierarchy is in tact.
So of course during lunch breaks, Eduardo fucks Mark in empty classrooms.

I DON'T EVEN KNOW. I just want them to pretend to hate each other, but secretly have a relationship. And it starts out just about sex, and UST, but then feelings develop, and Eduardo even starts to tell his friends to "Knock it off, guys, it's getting old."

FILL: Turnabout (1/?)

"Mr Zuckerberg. Did you change the AP calculus grades of Divya Narendra, Tyler Winklevoss, Cameron Winklevoss, and Eduardo Saverin?"

Mark flexed his left hand, hunched, and scribbled across his open palm, Synapse? Then, Pretentious? Viciously, he dashed a line through the last comment.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Mr Hendrick smile, teeth clenched. "Mr Zuckerberg," Hendrick repeated. "I'd like to take the opportunity to remind you that your future at this school, perhaps the future of your education as a whole, is on the line. I'd suggest you give me your attention. Is that too much to ask?"

"Mark," sighed his mother. She snatched the pen from his hands. Bereft, he shoved them into the pocket of his sweatshirt, hoping the ink wouldn't smudge. Not that he'd written anything vital to the future of his program on his hand of all places; he'd wanted a reminder, a souvenir, of this colossal waste of his time.

Hendrick cocked an eyebrow. "Well?"

"What was the question?" asked Mark.

His mother's fingers flew upward, tapping a frustrated tattoo to her temple. "Mark."

"Yes," said Mark.

Hendrick's chair protested loudly as he leaned back and drummed a beat into his desk with his thumbs, the corners of his lips twitching. "You admit you changed the changed the grades? That is a serious offense."

Mark shrugged. "You want me desperate," he said, "you want me to beg for detention and tutor underprivileged athletes with more brain damage than intellect, and you want me to want to. I have a four-point-oh GPA. You can't reasonably be suggesting my success or failure is intrinsically tied to a public school in Boston. You asked if my attention was too much to ask for." He glanced at Hendrick's flushed face, clenched hands, then back at the worn, faded denim of his jeans. "I'm telling you yes, it is."

In the wake of the silence that followed, he counted the ticks of Hendrick's ornate clock, centered perfectly on the wall above his head, just to the left of his framed degree. He didn't look at his mother, but he could picture the way she'd worry her lip with her teeth. He scowled.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't expel you right now," said Hendrick. 47, thought Mark, and let the number go.

"Because I didn't change the grades."

Hendrick laughed outright. "You expect me to believe that? Why would I?"

Mark straightened, finally, and blinked. "Eduardo will tell you," he said.

Hendrick's expression wavered, a confused tilt to his head. "Mark Zuckerberg," he said slowly, flipping through the papers on his desk a moment before he came up with the one he wanted. There was a familiar slant to the handwriting. "Mr Saverin has already spoken with us."

Mark's eyes slid back to his lap. There was a hole at his knee, now. He picked at it, frowning. "What—what did he say?" he asked. His voice cracked on the last word, just enough to make him wince. He cleared his throat.

Hendrick began to read.


FILL: Turnabout (2/?)

Six Months, Four Days, Twenty-One Hours Ago

"'Erica Albright's a bitch,'" Eduardo read aloud. "'Do you think it's because she'd actually be going to Snyder if her parents didn't have a special district exception or,"" he pauses, laughs, "'are all members of the debate team pedantic bitches?' Jesus."

Cameron frowned at an equation and made a note, book propped up on his knees. It was Eduardo's room, but he was sprawled across the bed like he owned it, Tyler cross-legged at the foot. "Does that kid even have any friends? Where does he get off insulting the debate team?"

"I think he's friends with that guy from calc, Dustin Moskovitz. And maybe Chris Hughes," said Eduardo. Maybe, he thought to himself, calling up a mental picture of Moskovitz ruffling Zuckerberg's chaotic curls in the cafeteria, Hughes on the bench across rolling his eyes.

"The gay kid?" asked Tyler. Eduardo ducked his head, shrugged. A tennis ball smacked into the wall above him and rebounded into Tyler's hand. Tyler tossed it from his right to his left. "You know you're low on the social hierarchy when even the debate team hates you."

"There's nothing wrong with being on the debate team," Cameron chided absently. He erased the note he'd made. Eduardo bit his tongue to keep from offering a correction.

He shook his head and continued, "'For the record, she may look like a 34C, but she stuffs her bra as desperately as the heroine of a Judy Blume novel. She's a 34B, as in barely anything there. False advertising.'"

"Classy," said Divya as he blinked awake, propped up against the door frame. He stretched, yawning. "Who graced the internet with those immortal words?"

"Mark Zuckerberg," Cameron replied.

"Who even is that?" Divya asked. "How did you get to his blog?"

"Just some geek. He gives it out to anyone who asks," said Tyler. "There was a whole thing last year during basketball season. No idea why Eddie's still checking that shit. Hm, Eduardo?" He gave Eduardo's chair a kick.

Eduardo bit his lip. "Curiosity," he said, and it was true, though a far less idle curiosity than he hoped they'd guess. He kept reading, tuning them out. The farther on he got, the faster his pulse sped. He spun the desk chair, turning the laptop with a flourish. "You have to see this."

Divya went up onto his knees; Cameron lowered his pencil; Tyler tossed the ball again, unconcerned. Eduardo read, "'It makes me wonder about candid behavior. The yearbook keeps their pictures uploaded. Probably not a smart move if those pictures include the student body president vomiting on the sneakers on the future valedictorian—'"

"I remember that," Tyler said, laughing.

"'—and when security is this much of a joke. Billy Olsen's sitting here suggesting that this is something Harvard should see, the true lives of the golden few. Yeah, it's on. I'm not gonna send them to Harvard but I like the idea of full disclosure.'" Eduardo scanned down until he spotted a link.

"Guys," he said, clicking through at rapid-fire speed. It was like watching a train wreck in slow-motion and rooting for the train, he thought, and grinned. "Guys, he made a website."

NOTE: I promise I'm not ignoring all the important aspects of your prompt! Bear with me? Alas, I must sleep now, but I'll write more tomorrow. Oh, and I know nothing about hacking or programming, so if you do, feel free to laugh at me.

(no subject) - slasher48, 2012-02-14 03:24 am (UTC)(Expand)
OP cannot even right now. - (Anonymous), 2012-02-14 10:04 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - (Anonymous), 2012-02-14 10:43 pm (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - oflights, 2012-02-15 04:59 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - doodlelover, 2012-02-15 05:47 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - cookiestome, 2012-02-15 08:36 am (UTC)(Expand)
FILL: Turnabout (3/?)

NOTE: Sorry about the delay. I had an issue with the formatting. The timestamps in the first two parts won't be uniform with the rest because I had to rework it. It'll be cleaned up whenever I finish and repost it.

MAY 5, 2004
3:22 pm

Hendrick looked up from the paper. "Do you admit you set up a website displaying personal pictures of your classmates, Mr Zuckerberg?" he asked.

"I was already disciplined for that," Mark snapped. "I served my detentions, I did my tutoring, I apologized to various members of the yearbook staff."

"Hm," said Hendrick, unconvinced, like he hadn't administered the punishment himself. "And then there was what Divya Narendra told us." He scanned the page with one swollen, stubby finger. "There it is."


OCTOBER 24, 2003
7:30 pm

The website was a novelty, a hilarious distraction from the humdrum of studying. Zuckerberg had an ever-changing count of users who'd signed up using valid school email addresses, and with every dozen memberships, a new page of pictures became available. The four of them poured over every one, passing between them a bag of chips and an imported beer Eduardo had reluctantly cribbed from his father's study.

"This kid is an evil genius," said Divya, awed. Eduardo chuckled nervously, and Cameron and Tyler laughed and laughed between sips of beer, kept laughing till the moment a picture of Cameron finally loaded.

There was a stunned silence. Eduardo rolled the desk chair back.

"Is that you with..." Divya trailed off uncertainly. He didn't need to say it, because there it was, clear as day: Tyler's hand up the skirt of the daughter of the lacrosse coach, sucking a mark into her neck as she clutched at his back.

"Oh god," moaned Cameron, closing his eyes. "We're going to be thrown off the team."

Visibly, Tyler clenched his teeth. "No, we're not. We're the star players; we're their bread and butter," he said, firm. "But I'll tell you what is gonna happen: that little dick Zuckerberg is gonna do us a goddamn favor."


OCTOBER 27, 2003
2:35 pm

"A dating website," said Zuckerberg, flatly.


NOVEMBER 6, 2003
4:03 pm

I have a CS problem set—


NOVEMBER 16, 2003
11:00 am

—have to cancel—


DECEMBER 4, 2003
9:37 pm

—still a little skeptical—we'll speak soon.


JANUARY 2, 2004

"Tyler," Divya said slowly. "Are these—these are pictures of you lighting up. On some fucking website. Have you seen these?"

"What? Tyler yelped, darting over to the computer with greater speed than Divya would reasonably anticipate from someone his size (but then, there were reasons Cameron, Tyler, and Eduardo were on the lacrosse team and he wasn't). He shoved Divya's chair from the desk. Yanking at his impeccably styled hair, he said, strained, "Jesus christ. Jesus christ." Frantically, he jiggled the mouse, as if he could somehow eradicate the picture from the internet with a click. "I'm dead. I'm fucking slaughtered and buried. I'm off the team. How did this happen?"

"What's that?" Divya said, spotting something off to the bottom of the page. He slapped Tyler's arm when Tyler only groaned, pitifully. "Tyler, get it together. That text, what does that say?"

Tyler scrolled down. "It says..." He took a sharp breath. "It says, 'A Mark Zuckerberg Production.'"


MAY 5, 2004
3:45 pm

"That's not how it happened," said Mark.

Hendrick straightened his stack of papers. "Would you care to expand?"

The bare bones were true, but only that, a skeleton of a story dressed in rags. Between points a and b, of course, were the many things withheld, glossed over because Eduardo would never dream of telling them to the principal of their school. Would never dream of telling them to anyone. Because Divya didn't know, either, and never would. Mark hadn't expected to hear them, but he'd never thought to wonder how the shape of the tale would shift in their absence. What the moral would be, then.


(no subject) - anyssia, 2012-02-16 03:04 pm (UTC)(Expand)
FILL: Turnabout (4/?)

DECEMBER 11, 2003
4:05 pm

They'd been playing a game of tag with looks in the grimy mirror of the empty restroom. Eduardo stood behind Mark as Mark wet his hands slowly, methodically. He was tipped into himself in a way which only served to make him look taller, shoulders raised. He'd shoot these glances at Mark's reflection from beneath his lashes, but they always fell when Mark looked back. This went on half a minute, agonizingly, before Mark roughly dried his hands on his jeans and demanded, "What?"

Eduardo had not been in detention, had probably never been in detention in his life. Mark didn't know what he was doing there. He didn't care.

Eduardo rocked on his heels, chin tucked. He said, "Tyler and Cam and Divya are good guys. They're good friends."

"I'm happy for you," Mark replied. He huffed, taken aback, when Eduardo cracked a grin. It set him at ease in some way, though, even as he was disappointed he hadn't gotten the rise he'd been aiming for, so he turned to Eduardo full-on, permitted him the barest edge of his attention. The beginnings of a flush rose on Eduardo's cheeks, his neck.

"Yeah, I know, just..." He sighed, head thrown back, and spun idly, contemplating the ceiling tile. "They're not bad guys. I want you to know that. But they're frustrated with you—for good reason, you led them around by the short-hairs about this website—" Mark snorted. Eduardo shot him a look. "—and me. But..." Mark stared at the long, smooth line of his throat, the bob of his Adam's apple at his nervous swallow. "They're gonna jump you," he said. "In the parking lot tomorrow after your detention. They just want to rough you up, nothing too bad."

"I never fucked you over," Mark told him. Eduardo frowned.

"Did you hear me? They're gonna beat you up. Tomorrow. The Winklevoss twins, you know the ones? Blond, athletic, 6'5?"

"I'm familiar, thanks for letting me know," said Mark, waving a hand. Then, so quickly the words tripped over each other's toes in their efforts to get out, "Those pictures were on the internet already. The ones of you. I didn't put anything up you hadn't already granted access to when you allowed yourself to be drunkenly trailed by teenage paparazzi. I didn't take them; I didn't upload them. The Winklevii don't get it, that much is clear—"

"The Winklevii?" Eduardo laughed. "Jesus."

"—but if you want to blame anyone, blame the yearbook committee. If you want to bitch at anyone, bitch at them. I didn't violate your privacy. I didn't violate anyone's privacy."

"Well, they feel like you did," said Eduardo, with not a small amount of exasperation, "and that's all that matters in the end. I'm just trying to keep you from getting your face intimately acquainted with the asphalt."

Mark knew there wasn't anyone out there who'd call him a trusting guy. He didn't take people's words at face value because even when those words were meant sincerely, even when that person was ignorant of it, there was a layer of subtext in every conversation.

He didn't believe in honest faces, either.

But Eduardo was sincere. Eduardo meant it. Mark knew that, even if he wasn't sure how. He was in this bathroom at four o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon to keep Mark from being beat into a bloody pulp. Just because.

It was... nice. It didn't restore his faith in humanity, or anything, but it almost made him smile. "Okay," Mark said after a long moment, gave him a nod, and left him behind.


FILL: Turnabout (5/?)

Of course, it didn't end there either, because:

DECEMBER 12, 2003
4:10 pm

"I told you," Eduardo hissed. He dragged Mark into the empty science lab by his underarms, grunting with the effort. Mark's entire body ached, the pressure points of Eduardo's hands lighting it up everywhere he touched.

"I know," Mark said, or tried to say. His lip stung fiercely, words muffled to incomprehension. He lifted a hand to his mouth, fingertips coming back bloody.

"I told you," Eduardo was muttering, still. He shoved Mark into a chair just this side of too roughly. Mark grunted as his ribcage hit the back of the seat, wind knocked out of him once again. "I said they'd be waiting for you."

"I know," insisted Mark, louder this time.

"Why didn't you just listen?" Eduardo lamented. Mark couldn't help but laugh at him even as it hurt his chest and made his shoulder twinge. Eduardo paused to glare at him, hand buried in his thick hair. He waited for a response.

Mark shrugged, irreverent. Eduardo threw up his hands in exasperation and left him to clean himself up.



DECEMBER 19, 2003
11:29 am

"Oh," Eduardo said awkwardly. He made a move to wipe his hands on his pants—dress pants, like he wasn't seventeen with limbs too long and hair perpetually slipping into his eyes—but pulled up short at the last moment and reached for a paper towel. "We've gotta stop meeting like this."

"Yeah," said Mark.

Eduardo shoved his hands in his pockets, hip cocked against the lip of the sink. He studied Mark a moment. Mark's face heated, mortifyingly. "Your lip looks a lot better," is all Eduardo said.

"Tends to heal," Mark replied, noncommittal.

A brilliant spectrum of conflicting emotions flittered across Eduardo's face. "Does that happen a lot?" he asked. Mark tipped his head, silent; he'd made up his mind long ago that the tragic tale of the unpopular, mouthy nerd was, despite the many movies to the contrary, better left untold. Eduardo seemed to get this, just smiled and asked, "Don't you have class?"

"Lunch," Mark corrected. They lapsed into silence when the door swung open and a freshman shuffled to the urinals, eyeing the two of them with open wariness. Eduardo washed his hands again, seemingly at a loss. Mark glared at the back of the kid's head.

"I'd better..." said Eduardo when the freshman had gone, as if he couldn't have fled at any moment, as if he'd had to bid Mark his farewell. Mark fingered the hem of his sweatshirt absently, watched Eduardo watch him.

"You'd better," he taunted, then, "Thanks."

Eduardo cocked an eyebrow. "For leaving?"

"You haven't left," Mark reminded him. He lifted a shoulder. "For warning me."

Eduardo knocked a knuckle against his lips nervously. "Ty and Cam are good guys but... That was an ambush. You don't have to thank me. Don't thank me for that."

"I want to," said Mark, because he did. Wanted more than that, too. Eduardo kept darting glances at Mark's neck, at his hands, when he thought Mark wasn't paying him any attention, but Mark was always paying attention, and Mark wanted. "Come here," he said, ducking into an empty stall. Eduardo followed, brow furrowed. Mark leaned back against the wall of the stall and waited as Eduardo deliberated before finally pulling the door shut behind them both.

"Mark? What are you doing?"

Mark stepped in toe to toe with Eduardo. He fingered the gentle dip of Eduardo's side through his shirt, slid a hand up his chest. Eduardo breathed heavy and harsh, eyes wild. He bit his lip. Mark shoved at his shoulders until he was up against the wall. The thump of Eduardo's head hitting the metal rang out.

"Thanking you," Mark answered, finally, and went to his knees.


FILL: Turnabout (6/?)

DECEMBER 19, 2003
11:57 pm

Across the cafeteria, Eduardo pushed his tray onto the table and slid in beside Divya Narendra. His eyes darted, magnetically, to Mark's. Mark took a bite of his fry and waited.

Eduardo looked away.


MAY 5, 2004
3:46 pm

"Mr Zuckerberg?" Hendrick prompted. "Is there any correction you'd like to make?"

Mark glanced at his mother without meaning to. She was—she looked exhausted. Her curls were limp, her nails bitten down to the quick like she'd scold Mark for. Her socks peaked out from under her jeans, one blue and one white. She waited with a disappointed frown, and Hendrick waited with an expectant smirk, until finally, Mark swallowed and went back to picking at his jeans.

He asked, "What else did they say?"

(no subject) - xbriyeon, 2012-02-19 03:13 am (UTC)(Expand)
(no subject) - julesmind, 2012-03-10 11:49 am (UTC)(Expand)

Writer here

I just realized that the principal here should probably be Summers, not an OC, and that I subconsciously had him in mind anyway. Oops? It's too late to change it now, I think (though I will when I repost it), but I just wanted to make a note here because I plan to have the Winklevoss twins interact with him. So, you know. Picture Summers! The interactions will probably be based around his scene with them.

Also, I noticed this meme does still use subject lines. I use ?style=mine, so I hadn't seen that. Sorry, guys. I'll make sure future parts have subjects.

FILL: Untitled 1a

A/N: Okay, so, I really shouldn't be starting WIPs right now but, uh, couldn't help it.

Warnings: Underage sex, I guess.

Disclaimer: This work is based on the characters as portrayed in the movie The Social Network, not real people. And, obviously, I’m not making any money from this.


It starts because Eduardo is too nice for his own good. It starts because somewhere between leaving his home and picking on Mark, Eduardo starts to feel bad. Now, he can usually put this kind of thought out of his mind. He’s very good at pretending he doesn’t feel bad because this is high school and no one wants to give up being a popular kid. That doesn’t happen.

Eduardo manages to put on a face, usually. But there’s something about the way Mark is constantly being picked on, something about the way his face still reads “fuck you” all over it, even when he’s wincing. There’s something about Mark that makes Eduardo feel eternally guilty about picking on him with such persistence.

It starts when Eduardo ducks into a bathroom as soon as he spots Mark in the hallway.

He waits a prudent amount of time. Waits until the bell rings and the noise outside in the corridors dies out. Eduardo opens the door with a sigh, shaking his head at himself because what is he doing? He’s gonna get so much shit for this. And still.

He’s thinking of some excuse when his eyes drop to Mark, slumped against a locker. It takes Mark a second to notice Eduardo’s presence. When he does, Mark squeezes his eyes shut, pushes off the locker and walks up to Eduardo.

“So, wanted to have me all to yourself?” Mark sneers but his whole body is limp, like the fight has died out of him.

Eduardo considers Mark for a moment. Really, it’s no wonder Mark gets picked on. If only he weren’t so defiant all the time.

And there’s a million things Eduardo could say and do to Mark that would be socially-acceptable. A million possibilities, all there for Eduardo to take because right here, right now, he’s got the upper hand. So many options, yet what does Eduardo choose? He chooses to say one of the few things that would probably send him straight to the lower levels of the social hierarchy.

Taking a bottle out of his backpack, Eduardo thinks this might be the first bad idea in a chain of potentially self-destructive decisions.

“You know, Zuckerberg, if that’s your version of a come-on, it leaves a lot to be desired,” Eduardo says, offering his water bottle to Mark.

Quirking an eyebrow at him, Mark takes the bottle and drinks small sips.

“You’d know if I were,” Mark replies, handing back the bottle to Eduardo.

He shouldn’t. Eduardo really, really shouldn’t but Mark’s mouth. Jesus Christ.

“Really?” Eduardo asks, trying to sound cool about the fact that he may or may not be flirting with Mark Zuckerberg. “And what would you do that I’d be so sure?”

At this, Mark’s eyebrows shoot up. He recovers quickly and is soon squinting his eyes at Eduardo, like he’s trying to figure out where Eduardo is going with this. Well, Eduardo wishes him good luck because he’s got no clue. They both remain silent until Mark makes a move.

FILL: Untitled 1b

There’s something quite frankly scary about the way Mark eventually smirks as he steps into Eduardo’s personal space.

Pressing their lips together, Mark makes the one move Eduardo would have never anticipated as he pushes up on his toes and full-on kisses Eduardo.

Eduardo has to blink a couple of times before he can think of an appropriate reaction. Anything but satisfying this new urge to push Mark against a locker and kiss him back.

“You’re, uh,” Eduardo starts, rubbing the corner of his own mouth with the heel of his hand. “Blunt.”

Mark, who is very quick with remarks, snorts.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” he replies, and then shrugs. “Plus, there’s no point in beating around the bush. Specially not when it’s just guys. It’s not like we’re particularly inclined to feelings or pink notes and carnations.”

Of course, the only thing that actually registers in Eduardo’s head is the fact that Mark is, on top of being a geek, pale, scrawny, and a piece of work, gay.

“Wow. Dude, it’s like you’re a custom-made punching bag,” Eduardo mutters, more to himself than to Mark.

“Are you saying this because I spent most of my time in front of screens or because I’m gay. Because if it’s the latter, let me tell you that there are a lot of gay people in this school.”

“And how would you know about that?”

“Same way I knew you wouldn’t beat me to a pulp if I kissed you.”

Eduardo has to give it to Mark.

He’s rather impressed.

And freaked out.

And maybe, just maybe, a little bit turned on.

“How do you feel about skipping class?” Mark asks. Eduardo wants to say “bad” but Mark’s already grabbing him by the wrist and leading him somewhere. “I’m showing you my spot.”

Eduardo’s stomach sinks to his feet as he follows Mark. He should stop. He shouldn’t follow Mark. Oh, god, this is going to end badly, Eduardo can already tell. But he can’t stop walking behind Mark. Won’t stop following him because there’s something incredibly alluring about the way Mark, despite all the shit he takes from virtually everyone else, is very confident about himself.

“Is this where you take all your victims and make out with them?” Eduardo asks when they’re out of the main building.

Stopping, Mark turns and faces Eduardo.

His smirk is full of malice as he answers, “I do a lot more than making out.”


Re: FILL: Untitled 1b - (Anonymous), 2012-02-14 10:16 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 1b - slasher48, 2012-02-14 10:44 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 1b - (Anonymous), 2012-02-14 10:47 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 1b - doodlelover, 2012-02-15 05:53 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 1b - xbriyeon, 2012-02-19 03:16 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 1b - (Anonymous), 2012-03-04 07:55 am (UTC)(Expand)

FILL: Untitled 2


Fast-forward three weeks and Eduardo has Mark cursing under him, breathless and about to come in Eduardo’s hand.

“You’re such a fucking tease. I don’t even know why— Oh, my god. Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” Mark whines as Eduardo swirls his thumb over the head of his cock.

Eduardo smirks as he stares at Mark, who is is biting down on his hand, eyes closed.


It goes something like this:

Eduardo stops actively seeking out Mark as a punching bag, and, in return, Mark drags Eduardo to dark closets and secluded corners where they get each other off. That they make no reference whatsoever to what goes on in these places is their unstated agreement.

If he’s honest, Eduardo isn’t sure who’s doing who a favor. He sometimes likes to think it’s a mutually convenient arrangement but Mark Zuckerberg isn’t known for his charitable disposition just as Eduardo isn’t exactly topping the philanthropy list. Eduardo’s sure someone’s getting screwed over here. He just isn’t sure who.

And he would worry over it. Because that’s who Eduardo is. He worries and over-thinks every single thing. However, that’s not who Mark is. He just does. Like he never second-guesses himself. Mark does things with a striking drive that takes Eduardo by surprise. Before Eduardo has time to give himself a heart-attack over kissing a boy, Mark’s mouth is over his while his hands a sneaking into Eduardo’s jeans, and Eduardo is too far gone to think this through.

Later, in the privacy of his room, Eduardo would normally freak out. Except he starts thinking about the things Mark does, how he does them, and then it’s Eduardo’s hand down inside his own boxers, touching himself like the horny teenager he undeniably is.

At some point, Eduardo’s brain figures that’s exactly it. He’s sixteen — almost seventeen — so there’s really not much his body doesn’t like. And if someone is offering Eduardo good, free orgasms in exchange for the same, he sees no good reason to stop.

Once Eduardo manages to reconcile this in his own mind, he becomes an active part in the whole dragging-to-strange-and-semi-public-places process. Mark is openly surprised when Eduardo sneakily passes him a note in their AP Calculus class, the only they actually take together.

Later, behind the bleachers when no one’s around, Mark says, “I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

Eduardo rolls his eyes and responds in an equally acid tone, “I figured you could use the help.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Mark, predictably, does so by kissing Eduardo full on his lips.

It doesn’t take long for them to settle into their usual hard and fast rhythm. No time to think, no time muse. Just do, do do. Unzip, unbutton, touch, thrust, thrust, thrust.










Sometimes, Eduardo has the urge of saying “thank you” or “that was nice”. Then he remembers his hand is on Mark Zuckerberg’s dick and he is Eduardo Saverin. The two don’t mix.

Instead, Eduardo settles for an impersonal, “see you around,” as he tucks himself back in his pants and walks away.


The fact that Eduardo stops punching Mark and throwing cold soda at him does not mean the insults never happen. Eduardo will still see Mark hunched over his computer and yell something about not getting any and scrawny twigs that are nothing but a waste of air. Mark, ever the pretentious douchebag, responds with a more eloquent tirade along the lines of uneducated foreigners who have next to no idea about the English language and are therefore sad and unoriginal.

The difference now is that when Tyler Winklevoss steps in and tries to give Mark a black eye, Eduardo holds him by the arm and says, “He isn’t worth an extra hour in detention.”

No one thinks it’s weird. Eduardo has always been a rather reasonable guy so it’s not unthinkable that he’d stop a fight just to be practical.

Later, when Mark has Eduardo panting in an empty classroom, they won’t talk about it. Their lives here, now, in this room, are different from those out there.

Edited at 2012-07-08 03:18 am (UTC)

FILL: Untitled 3a


The end of first semester comes out of nowhere. Without any previous notice, days flash by and it’s time for Christmas and family and gifts and friends but never for Mark. Because school’s out, and Eduardo has no idea where Mark lives. Even if he did, that would be one awkward knock on a door.

Eduardo can make it through the holidays without him. It’s not as if he can’t get any anywhere else.

He can.

And he does.

Yet somehow, all these girls he gets with, they still can’t compare.

Christy comes close, though. She corners him in a bathroom and pulls down his pants before she goes down on him like Eduardo’s cock is the last bottle of water in a dry dessert and she can’t get enough of it. Or something like that. She comes close as she deep-throats Eduardo with skill and urgency. But in the end, as Eduardo is coming in her mouth, it’s Mark’s name at the tip of his tongue and Mark’s eyes flashing before him in one brief, hallucinating second.

Eduardo bangs his head against the wooden door as he recovers from his orgasm. He breathes in and out, trying not to over-think what just happened. He tries but Christy is slow, indecisive. She keeps staring at him, waiting instead of just doing. Eduardo can’t take it. He stumbles out of the stall, out of the bathroom, the house. He’s halfway to a panic attack within five minutes of picturing Mark’s mouth around his cock. He’s in the middle of a street he barely knows, standing there in dark of the night, heart pounding, palms sweating. He feels a familiar itch to escape, to do something before he drives himself insane.

Eduardo takes a couple of steps away from the house. Takes a couple more. Quicker, shorter. Faster, faster. Suddenly, he’s running as fast and hard as his legs can take him.

Eduardo gets text from Cameron (dude, you left early. something wrong?) and Tyler (get some, saverin!) the morning after. He ignores Tyler’s but answers Cameron’s with a quick headache that isn’t really a lie at this point.


After the whole Christy disaster, Eduardo stops seeking out girls with as much fervor. Winter break becomes progressively more and more boring. The days feel like weeks and the weeks like months.

Eduardo can’t remember feeling like this ever. Christmas used to be one of his favorite seasons. In fact, this Christmas was supposed to be awesome now that he could drive and his parents had finally decided to stop bugging him about curfew.

But it’s not. It sucks. Even looking for gifts sucks.

Eduardo isn’t an idiot. He can put two and two together. He knows what’s missing. However, the thought of it is so scary that he prefers to snap at his mom and run off to a strange part of town than staying in his own house and figuring out what he really wants.

Eduardo isn’t an idiot. He’s just trying really hard to one.


Eventually, winter break comes to an end. There is probably no one in the district happier than Eduardo. In fact, there is probably no one in the district happy but Eduardo. Because no one really wants to go back to school. Eduardo himself is not particularly eager to see his teachers again. He is, however, very much looking forward to one Mark Zuckerberg.


“Missed, honey?” Mark teases after Eduardo all but jumps him during their first break.

“You wish,” Eduardo lies.

FILL: Untitled 3b


Not everything is nice and easy, though. They’re juniors in their second semester and their teachers are starting to catch the fever of preparing them for the bigger things in life. Eduardo has already s list of projects and essays piling up, and just when he thinks it couldn’t get any worse, Mr Sorkin, his Calc teacher, reminds the class of their final project.

“It’s a pair work, so you won’t have any excuses about not having enough time. Now, I’ll be the one to chose the pairs because some of you like to slack off,” at this point, the teacher looks pointedly at Mark, “and need the extra push to hand in the assignment. Okay, so your future best pals are: Albright-Moskovitz, Cameron Winklevoss-Narendra, Davidson-Olsen…” Eduardo, knowing his name is going to be one of the last ones, tunes out Mr Sorkin for a second only to be startled when his name is called. “Saverin-Zuckerberg. And that’s it. I will receive no complaints. Whatever differences you have, you better work them out before you fail. See you next week.”

Eduardo feels his stomach dropping to his knees. Then he looks up and Mark is standing there, clutching fiercely the strap of his backpack.

“We could try to switch partners, if it’s going to be a problem, Saverin. However, that’s too much effort and I suppose I could’ve been paired up with worse.”

“Geez, thanks, Zuckerberg.”

“My pleasure. I think we should start this early. Just divide tasks and then I won’t have to see your face that often.”

“Wouldn’t you like to be so lucky.”

At this, Mark actually smirks at Eduardo.

Rolling his eyes, Eduardo pretends he isn’t thinking about getting lucky with Mark and says, “This afternoon, my place?”

“Sure. Here’s my number, text me your address.” Mark hands him a small piece of paper.

Shrugging, Eduardo starts speaking without thinking, “I can always drive you after school.”

It is only after Mark stands there, sort of maybe gaping at him that Eduardo realizes he just offered a ride to the closest person he has ever come close to calling an archenemy.

“Or maybe I’ll just text you my address,” Eduardo amends, blushing and rushing to throw his things in his backpack.

As he leaves the room, Eduardo has a rather familiar urge to bang his head on the nearest locker.

A/N: So I don't know if anyone's still interested in this but I'm finally getting back into fandom after months of agonizing writer's block/overwhelming school work.

Edited at 2012-04-29 05:09 am (UTC)

Re: FILL: Untitled 3b - xbriyeon, 2012-04-29 01:49 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 3b - (Anonymous), 2012-04-29 02:00 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 3b - (Anonymous), 2012-04-29 02:28 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 3b - popsongnation, 2012-04-29 05:05 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 3b - skyearth85, 2012-04-29 05:19 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 3b - luannab, 2012-04-29 09:49 pm (UTC)(Expand)

FILL: Untitled 4a

A/N: Again, sorry for the late update!

Eduardo has time to arrange and re-arrange the dining room table at least four times before Mark shows up. He has time to wash his face and make snacks. By the time Mark actually comes, Eduardo is halfway to driving himself insane.

He is pacing his living room, checking over and over again his phone to make sure he didn’t text the wrong address, when the doorbell rings. Eduardo jumps, heart racing.

“Mark,” Eduardo says as he throws the door open.

“Sorry,” is the first thing out of Mark’s mouth. “I had to wait for my sister-” Mark stops, turning around and waving. Eduardo looks over Mark’s shoulder. He can barely make out that there is a girl in the car before she drives away.

“You don’t drive?” Eduardo asks, leading Mark inside.

Mark shrugs. “So, where do you want to set up?”

“Uh, dining room?”

“It’s your house.”

“Right,” Eduardo mutters under his breath, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. God. “Would you like anything?”

“Are you parents home?” Mark asks instead of answering.

Eduardo shakes his head. “Mom goes to the gym in the afternoon and my dad isn’t home before seven.”


“So, food?”

“I ate before.”

Eduardo swallows. “Ah.”

“My sister’s picking me up in two hours,” Mark says out of nowhere as they sit at the table. Frowning, Eduardo opens his mouth but Mark cuts him off. “So, we should get this done quickly.”

“Or I could drive you,” Eduardo blurts.

He is blushing as soon as the words leave his mouth. Eduardo can feel himself becoming redder by the second while Mark just squints at him.

“Why would you do that?”

“I’m-I’m just trying to be nice?”

This time, it is Mark who frowns. “But you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you!”

At this, Mark, because he is an asshole, smirks.

“Oh, well, forgive me for trying to be a decent human being,” Eduardo snaps.

“I wasn’t aware extending driving invitations were part of human decency.” Then Mark shrugs. “If you really don’t mind, I suppose I can text my sister.”

“You suppose-” Eduardo starts parroting but Mark takes out his phone, and Eduardo finds himself shutting up and taking out his books.

“Now,” Mark says. “Let’s start, shall we?”

Eduardo nods, grabbing a pen.


FILL: Untitled 4b

Working on their project takes them longer than expected. They are an absolute disaster at it, much to Eduardo’s surprise. The thing is. Mark. Oh, Jesus Christ, Mark is down right impossible. He takes over the tasks, deciding who should do what without consulting Eduardo. When Eduardo disagrees, Mark scoffs and rolls his eyes. When Eduardo finds a mistake in Mark’s work, Mark bites the inside of his cheek.

To be fair to Mark, though, Eduardo stopped trying to be nice half an hour into their study session. If at first he waited for Mark to finish whatever problem he was solving, now Eduardo is looking for any opportunity to jump and say “you’re doing it wrong.” Eduardo may not be a genius like Mark but he has not aced all his subjects so far on sheer luck.

And whatever, it is not like Mark is any nicer to Eduardo. He cannot let Eduardo finish his sentences without rolling his eyes or making some snarky comment on how slow Eduardo is and really, they are a terrible, terrible combination.

They are arguing over a particularly tricky problem when Maria Saverin gets home. Mark is going on about how Eduardo knows absolutely nothing about CS and computer-generated graphs just as Eduardo belittles Mark’s ability with algorithms. It is not pretty, and Maria Saverin walks in on the two of them almost yelling across the table.

Maria Saverin clears her throat.

Mark and Eduardo stop mid-rant.


“Eduardo,” Maria greets her son. She walks to him, kisses him on both cheeks.

Maria stands next to her son, looking expectantly at him. Eduardo blinks at her a couple of times before he realizes he has not introduced Mark. It is only until Eduardo turns to face Mark that he notices Mark is gaping rather obviously at his mom.

“Right,” Eduardo says tightly. “Mãe, this is Mark. Mark, this is my mom.”

Maria extends her hand to Mark, who blushes but still shakes it. “Nice to meet you,” she says with a thick accent.

Mark smiles awkwardly at her, a smile Eduardo does not think he has ever seen. “Same.”

“Now, boys,” Maria starts. “I’ll make dinner and I’m expecting you two to behave while I do so. Mark, will you be staying?”

“Uh. My-my mom’s waiting for me.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. Well, I do have to get started. You boys play nice,” Maria says, patting Eduardo’s back.

Mark follows Maria disappear into the kitchen with his eyes and then whispers, “Your mom.”

“What about my mom?”

“She… She is young,” Mark replies, eyes glued to the kitchen.

“You’re not gonna hit on her, are you?” Eduardo demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “Aren’t you gay, anyway?”

“I don’t believe in labels,” Mark answers automatically. “Wow. She is…”

“How very diplomatic of you. Want to call it a day?”

“Sure… What’s her name again?” Mark asks.

Eduardo is about to tell Mark to quit it. Because, seriously. But then Mark turns to face Eduardo again. He is smirking.

“Oh, fuck you,” Eduardo says.

“Do you get that a lot?”

“With my mom? Yeah.”

“I bet. So, you promised me a ride?”

“Let me grab my keys,” Eduardo replies, smiling to himself.


The ride to Mark’s home is quiet. Mark types his address in Eduardo’s GPS and does not say anything for fifteen minutes.

When the GPS flashes that they are 1.2 miles away from destination, Eduardo breaks the silence.

“Sorry. For, you know.” Eduardo makes gestures with his hand. “Yelling, and stuff.”

Eduardo can feel Mark’s eyes on him before Mark breaks into hysterical laughter. He is about to ask what the hell is so funny when Mark answers the unspoken question.

“God, you’re just so. So, proper, aren’t you, Saverin?”

“I have manners!” Eduardo exclaims because he does not believe being a decent person makes him a laughing-stock.

“How on earth did you become a jock?” Mark asks, gasping for air.

Eduardo rolls his eyes.

“You know, it’s not that hard be-”

“Slow down, it’s the next house.”

Eduardo presses his lips into a tight line. His stomach drops and his fingertips are tingling.

“Thanks for the ride,” Mark says as he unbuckles the seatbelt.

Eduardo opens his mouth but closes it again as Mark gets out and starts walking up the driveway.

Eduardo watches him go inside without turning back to Eduardo.

FILL: Untitled 5 - pasdexcuses, 2012-06-05 12:08 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 5 - (Anonymous), 2012-06-05 02:14 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 5 - jasmasson, 2012-06-05 05:32 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 5 - xbriyeon, 2012-06-05 08:10 pm (UTC)(Expand)
FILL: Untitled 6a - pasdexcuses, 2012-06-12 05:56 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 6a - (Anonymous), 2012-06-12 11:54 am (UTC)(Expand)
FILL: Untitled 6b - pasdexcuses, 2012-06-12 05:59 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 6b - (Anonymous), 2012-06-12 09:44 am (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 6b - xbriyeon, 2012-06-12 10:12 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 6b - julesmind, 2012-06-16 12:38 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 6b - (Anonymous), 2012-06-18 07:18 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 6b - savetomorrow, 2012-06-23 09:09 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: FILL: Untitled 6b - (Anonymous), 2012-08-20 02:01 pm (UTC)(Expand)